


Let Him Eat Cake

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Bodie has his appendix out and suffers complications.





	Let Him Eat Cake

Eyes burning from lack of sleep, Ray Doyle slumped in the chair. Cowley'd told him to go home hours ago, but he'd disobeyed his superior's orders yet again. With good cause, he felt. He couldn't sleep anyway, and this is where he had to be. He knew that to the very marrow of his bones. And to the centre of his heart. 

Doyle blinked slowly before he rubbed harshly at his eyes. With a tired sigh, he once again, for the thousandth time he was sure, examined the figure before him. 

Bodie lay, pale and still, against the too-white sheets of the hospital bed. That particular colour only made Bodie look that much more sickly. Bodie shouldn't be made to look fragile at all. Wasn't right. Besides, Bodie would look much better against sky blue or pale green...

Stop that! 

Doyle reached out and lightly touched his partner's cool hand, and once again willed him awake. He needed Bodie with his eyes open and his mouth working. To snark at him. To relentlessly tease him. To share his grub and his drink. Needed the great clown on his feet as well. To back him up on the street. To keep him alive. To walk beside him. 

With a final pat to the unresponsive hand, Doyle rested his elbows on the edge of the mattress and put his chin on his hands. 

Fate. He hated sodding fate. 

Who would have thought that after years of dodging bullets and bombs and mad terrorists that a dodgy appendix would have almost killed his best friend? Almost. And still could, apparently, if that bloody doctor's last examination came to anything. He's not out of the woods yet, the man had said. The next twelve hours are crucial. His face had been grim, his eyes had held a touch of sympathy. Bastard. 

What if the doctor's ominous prediction was correct? 

No! 

No, Doyle ordered himself, Bodie will be all right. 

"You won't die on me, you hard-headed cretin. Do you hear me? These doctors don't know you like I do. They don't know what a will you have. They don't know you'll live just so's you can shove their dire predictions down their fucking throats. You'll live to prove them wrong. Right?" Doyle swallowed before he whispered, "Please, mate... I need you." 

The words hung in the air. I need you. Suddenly embarrassed in front of Bodie, even if the man was unconscious, Doyle shifted uncomfortably. As if Bodie could hear him; could read his very thoughts. What would an aware Bodie have thought of his pleading words? Leaning back in his chair, Doyle gave serious consideration to that idea. Would Bodie scorn him? Leave in a huff, disgusted? Nah. Not Bodie. If he actually told Bodie how he felt, Bodie wouldn't do that. He might bust a gut laughing. He might tease Doyle relentlessly for years to come. He might even ruffle Doyle's hair and graciously -- with much pomp and circumstance -- thank him for his interest. Hell, Bodie would think it's his due that Doyle fancied him. 

After all, everybody desired Bodie, according to Bodie, that is. Man or woman, it made no matter. He was God's gift to all. 

Doyle chuckled aloud. Bodie was that, wasn't he? All hard muscle and sinew. Strong hands. Dark and gorgeous, midnight blue eyes like soft velvet... Shit, but he had it bad. Velvet? Where in hell had that come from? Doyle groaned and gave himself a firm internal shake, reminding himself of the circumstances. Of Bodie, being so damned ill that the doctors- 

Shut it! 

Doyle leaned back towards the bed and in a low voice, demanded, "Wake up, damn you! Don't let them win. Do it for yourself, Bodie. Or do it for both of us. I don't care. Just open your eyes. Listen, I swear, if you open your eyes, I'll come clean. I'll tell you everything. I won't be a coward any longer." He stared at his partner, willing him awake with every fibre of his being. "All right! All right," he said softly. "You win. I'll tell you now. That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to spill my guts here and now. And then you'll wake? You laugh in my face and tell me I'm barmy? Promise?" 

Doyle rose abruptly and walked away from the bed. He turned and asked again, "Promise?" After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "All right, then. Deal." He paced for a few steps before he returned to his chair and reached out, taking Bodie's hand in his. "I'm here for you, you daft moron. I want you and me to... To fuck each other silly. To live together. To die together, old and grey. Christ, Bodie, what else can I say? You're the one I've waited for, and I'm tired of waiting. There. Happy now?" Doyle squeezed Bodie's hand. "Now wake up!" 

The seconds ticked by, then minutes. Time ran on and in spite of Doyle's pleas and promises, Bodie never moved. The only signs that he was alive was the insissent pinging of the heart monitor and Bodie's chest rising and falling. Slowly, too slowly, yet each breath was precious to Doyle as he kept vigil. And therein lay the hope. 

"At least you're not on life support. At least you've given me that much. Christ, but you're such a selfish bastard! Why do you have to have it all laid out right now? Okay, then. I'll admit all of it. You are such a prick." Doyle rose and stood, arms crossed, glaring at Bodie. "Are you ready, mate? Here goes: I'm in love with you. Nobody else will ever mean as much to me as you. That's it. All of it. Nothing held back. I kept up my part of the deal. Now you keep up yours." Doyle glared at his partner. "Do you hear me? Damn it all, Bodie, but I can't do this without you!" 

Suddenly, his eyes prickled and his throat closed. Doyle turned away and walked to the far wall, leaning his forehead on the ugly grey/green surface. "Jesus, Bodie, wake up already." He turned, hopeful, yet Bodie stay still as death. 

"Stop it!" he said aloud. "Just -- stop. He's going to be okay." Stalking back over to the bedside, Doyle threw himself into the chair. He slouched down, slinging an arm down the back and stretching out his legs, ankles crossed. 

"All right then. Seems you want something more to sweeten the pot. You've always been a selfish prick. Always wanting more than your share." Doyle leaned close to Bodie's ear. "Thought you'd fancy having me laid out on a silver platter, to do with what you will, but apparently, you've a mind for something else." Doyle took the lax fingers in his and squeezed gently. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, raising his eyes Heavenward and shaking his head. "But for a mate, I'll go above and beyond. I'm an idiot," he muttered before he said firmly, "But you win. I'll cook for you for an entire month. Breakfast, lunch and supper. Every day we're not on. How's that for a grand offering, eh? Anything you want. No takeaway. All made right from these two hands." Doyle paused, lightly squeezing Bodie's unresponsive hand. "You want specifics? Why don't you trust me? You're such a distrusting sod! Okay then. Details." 

Doyle placed Bodie's hand back on the sheet, rose and paced. "Breakfast. I know what you like. Eggs, sausages, the works. Tomatoes, beans... Whatever you want. I'll even toss in that toast you fancy. The one with the raisins and cinnamon. Only God knows how you can eat that muck. If you want anything more, you'll just have to open those peepers and ask." 

Pausing, Doyle glanced down at his friend. He put a hand on Bodie's arm, rubbing lightly. "Come on, Bodie. The bloody doctors are too busy with other patients to have to care for you. And the more you lay about, the hungrier you're going to be when you wake up. Besides, breakfast around here isn't the best. Not that you're all that particular about what you stuff down your gullet. Greasy chips, bangers 'n mash, and what is it with you and sausages? Won't touch liver sausage, but put it in a casing and you'll eat a dozen. Fried in more grease. Not a bit discerning, are you?" 

With a loving pat to the skin under his fingers, Doyle stretched his arms over his head and tried to work out a few kinks in his back by leaning from side to side, warming up lax muscles. 

"Where was I? Got it. Lunch. All the chip butties you want. I can 't believe I'm saying this. How about something more posh for noontime? I know! High tea. Real tea in a pot, not a bag dunked in the cup. I'll make you those silly little bits: cucumber sandwiches, scones with fresh butter and clotted cream, raspberry tart. God, I haven't had real raspberry tart since my granny made them years ago. Had the nicest crust on hers, mate. She mixed ground-up walnuts right into the pastry." Doyle smiled with remembrance as he returned in his seat. He rested an elbow on the mattress and put his chin into his palm. "Earl Grey was her favourite. She had the nicest bona china tea pot. White with hundreds of little flowers strewn over it. Poseys, she call them. Don't know what kind of flowers they really were, but it didn't matter. Even as a lad, I thought it was beautiful. Used to sit there and try to count the blossoms." He chuckled. "When I could count to a hundred, Gran was so proud of me. She made me the biggest cake I'd ever seen. Wrote my name in the icing in red. Let me lick the bowl and all, and it wasn't even my birthday." Dreamily, Doyle added, "White case. My favourite. Didn't much care for chocolate, even then. White with yellow frosting. God, I miss her." 

"R-ray?" 

Doyle spun around so quickly, his head swam. "Bodie?" He was beside the bed in seconds, needing to touch his partner. His hands flew out, both wrapping around Bodie's cool forearm. Eyes barely slitted open, Bodie groaned softly. "I'm here. Bodie?" 

"Feel 'orrible," Bodie muttered before he drifted away. 

Doyle swallowed around the thickness in his throat and sank into the chair. He put his head down on his outstretched arms and let out a grateful sigh. 

\-----------------------

Morning brought dull, grey skies, cold drizzle but Doyle didn't care. His heart was light and happy. Bodie was awake. 

Well, he'd been awake for all of about two minutes an hour ago, but the doctors were pleased. Doyle was ecstatic. 

"He's on the high road," the treating doctor had said. "We'll hope for the best." 

Doyle knew then that things were going to be all right. Bodie was going to live. He couldn't keep the grin from spreading across his face and it was with light feet that he pulled the chair closer to Bodie's bed. As he watched his partner sleep, he planned Bodie's first breakfast at home. The word 'bacon' made him smile for a change. And along with that bacon? A confession about his heart's true desire. Life was too short to live without bacon and Bodie. Well, maybe not the bacon so much.


End file.
